


emotional wreckage bear

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: "You are sometimes a teddy bear.""Yes?” Jinki bit at his lip and Kibum watched it slip back out slowly as he dragged his teeth back. “But I like being this way better."A thoroughly unhelpful thought made itself known without his consent when he blurted out, "Can't blame you."





	emotional wreckage bear

**Author's Note:**

> [Please look at this adorable piece of Onkey fanart](https://r00sisi.tumblr.com/post/162312824874/twitter-instagram)

Kibum was only halfway home when his ears caught on a sob, in the opposite direction of the exit he had been headed eagerly towards. He slowed, pulling the strap of his bag tight against his chest as the traffic surged on, full of people distinctly not crying. Their expressions were similar to what his had been a moment ago: drawn, distracted, thoroughly tired.

He felt a bit stupid as he scanned the crowd, getting jostled like a tourist when he should have been getting into his off-work headspace. It had been taking longer and longer lately to extract himself mentally, so that should have been his priority, the first step getting home – and yet he found himself moving hesitantly towards where the cry had come from, on the lookout for a distraught face. 

Anyone that upset, he reasoned, wouldn't be in the flow of the crowd. They'd be secluded, separating themselves as much as they could. He adjusted his course, beginning to cut across towards a ticket machine and empty bench against the far wall. The change of approach rewarded him with another cry, this one more drawn-out, and he could feel his heart bruise slightly from hearing it.

Kibum didn’t consider himself a great believer in humanity, but it was disturbing that he was the only one noticing and taking action. The realization made his last push to reach the machine a little rude, but he considered it worth it if he could just find the source of the noise. But there was still no one there: as far as he could see down the curve of the tunnel, there were no crumpled, kneeling, or otherwise unusual figures.

He sighed, uneasy, put off that he had been distracted by what was apparently nothing. He was a little young to be going crazy, but he could chalk it up to stress and move on. 

Considerations for dinner wandered in as a replacement thought as he shifted his weight, but then, a groan of pain, so sharp and deep that Kibum was able to zero in immediately: there, an office worker's cheap shoe that was lifting up from a blanket poking out from under the bench. He made his way over, dismissal getting shoved aside by validation at what he thought he had heard. His troubled feeling was swelling up nauseatingly as he ducked his head down.

The blanket was very small, slight lumps visible in the light of the subway, and, if a limber adult could fit under the bench, no adult could fit underneath the blanket.

He muttered invectives under his breath at the long-gone worker as he bent down, his hand fluttering just above the edges before it cautiously came to land. 

He spoke more gently than he was used to. 

"Hey, are you okay? My name is Ki-"

Instead of the expectation - it had to be a child, alone and scared, at that size, despite the adult-sounding noises - all he found as he lifted the blanket up was a teddy bear, various shades of brown beneath the grime, and soggy from the morning rain. The threads were coming loose around its ears. 

He instantly colored pink in embarrassment and confusion. Maybe what he had heard was the owner, one of the kids that he had passed by, hand-in-hand with their parents? He picked it up gingerly by the paw and nearly fumbled it when the next groan came, even louder from being uncovered. Kibum hastily put the bear down again, feeling his ears burn as he put the pieces together.

It was an abandoned toy, people trying to slip by the crowd stepped on it by accident, and – this was the only logical conclusion, even if he couldn’t come up with an actual reason - it was programmed with the noises of a grown man in pain. There were certainly weirder products in the world, but Kibum looked down at the bear askance and thought this one had to be up there: your very own Emotional Wreckage Bear. 

The next step was obvious: get up. Leave the thing behind. Use hand sanitizer liberally. But Kibum wasn’t, instead locked into his half-kneeling position, his bag balancing precariously over his bent knee.

Toy Story 3 aside, he didn't have a habit of going soft over forgotten toys - but at the moment the streak seemed to be faltering. Whoever had designed the thing clearly meant to capitalize on guilt tripping, because that was the feeling sloshing around inside him. There was crusted dirt rimming around the bear's marbled brown eyes and a grey tuft of stuffing poking out just above the left leg.

It was probably going to end up getting kicked onto the tracks and sliced in half before the day was up – that, or thrown in the trash the next time the janitorial staff came around.

Kim Kibum was  _not_  a person who got emotionally soft in forgotten toys – but he was still short ₩1100 when he came back with a newspaper from the nearest stand. He kept it in hand, hurrying his steps when there was a muted sob from another person's quick pace. 

Pages 5 – 15 made a sufficient wrap. When finished, he tucked it underneath his arm and sprinted for the next train, focused on finally resuming his commute. 

* * *

His nose wrinkled as he picked the newspaper folds away. The thing looked forlorn enough in his neatly kept apartment, but it smelled worse. Kibum's dogs circled curiously around his legs, noses intently sniffing. 

"Not really sure why we’re here, but we're here," he said softly, as though the bear was both emotionally and materially fragile. He held it away from his body, unwilling to get the stink on his work clothes and headed for the bathroom, placing it down next to the drain. His regular routine was run through more quickly than normal as he changed into a pair of soft shorts and t-shirt and set down the bowls for his dogs, before pulling one of the older towels out of the closet and returning to the bathroom. Already a little bit of the bear's grime had flaked off and was showing clearly against the white floor. He pulled the showerhead off the wall, turned it to lowest setting, and sat at the edge of the toilet as he began to clean.

He kicked his feet up underneath him as soon as the bear started dripping unidentifiably gross pieces, watching them fall down the drain with satisfaction. He squeezed its arm between his fingers when all the loose dirt had come off, the water darkening again as the pressure pushed off the more stubborn pieces. Idly, he swiped his finger across one of the eyes until it reflected the lights above.

Careful to avoid the loose stuffing at the top of the leg, he held it between pinched fingers as water skimmed across the surface. He rubbed his thumb against the darker stain above the eyes and frowned in disapproval when it wouldn't come clean. 

"Guess we'll just leave that there, then."

When finished, he put it up on the counter, facing the wall, and positioned the hair dryer directly across from its back. The sound of it echoed as he disrobed and took his own shower, breathing the steam in deeply and gratefully.

He had not planned on staging a rescue operation on a stuffed animal - did anyone, ever - but maybe it was just a natural, if oddball, conclusion for the rest of his week. Five minutes to himself had been too much to ask each day. Relaxing for the night was a luxury.

Maybe he could justify the bear adoption as self-care: picking up something wretched-looking and repairing it the best he could.

He could look at it and feel like he was capable of fixing something. It made as much sense as anything else, and looking any deeper into his actions could open up rabbit holes Kibum was not interested in. 

His steps out of the shower were lighter, and he got dressed, relishing in the feel of the loose material around his legs. The bear too was feeling dry and warm beneath his fingers already, so he flipped it around, prodding to make sure the stuffing stayed in. He still had a small sewing kit somewhere, having bought it in college when he couldn't afford to replace his clothes. It was in his closet - or his drawer - or his bedroom? He went off to look. 

Finding it after a few minutes digging, he brought it into the bathroom with the light of triumph in his eyes. He patted the bear all over, making sure it was no longer damp, before pulling the dryer and running it over his own hair briefly. Snippets of song escaped his lips as he enjoyed the warmth, feeling some satisfaction as he realized the bear was getting closer to being in decent condition. Its color was a dark, rich brown, and getting the clumps of dirt did some good to its fur. He could run his fingers through it, and did, marveling that it still felt soft. 

"What conditioner do you use, hmm?" he joked, glad that no one was around to hear. He turned off the drier and pulled the sewing kit and the bear into his lap. 

Continuing to sing softly, enjoying the slight echo the bathroom provided, he chose a dark brown spool, threaded the needle, and began to close the tear. 

* * *

 

Kibum eyed his work critically. He was no professional, but it looked pretty good - almost invisible - even though he knew it was there. The peaceful repetition of over-under, through and through, brought with it a simple sense of pride. 

At least he got this one right, he thought as he padded out to his bedroom. He dangled the teddy bear above his dogs' heads. 

"How about now?"

They didn't stir, so he considered it as having passed the critical sniff test and settled into bed, snatching a book up to read. Perhaps, now, he could admit he was more soft than previously supposed, but he had his limits. He was a grown man and wasn't about to cuddle with a toy just to get to sleep. The teddy bear he placed on his nightstand.

He made an effort to read and maybe drift off to sleep, but, having finished all the clean-up efforts, his curiosity about the programming come back. What kind of manufacturer made a toy filled with pained noises? Was it supposed to be a gag gift to traumatize children? He supposed it could have been funny in a darkly comedic way, if someone didn't encounter it as a mistaken abandoned child in a train station. (He was, admittedly, still miffed with embarrassment at the mistake, even though it had turned out pretty well for his self-esteem.)

Putting his book to the side, he reached out and gave a squeeze to the bear's right paw, secure to satisfy his curiosity now that he was alone, but nothing happened. 

Kibum furrowed his brow, and squeezed the left paw. 

Nothing insistently happened. 

He grabbed it, placing it on his stomach. He squeezed its paws, its feet, its stomach. He pushed its nose in, pinched its ears. He frowned, and the bear looked stoically back.

"Probably should have taken out your batteries before the shower," he murmured. "Sorry about that."

Stricken with a childish sense of guilt, he hugged it to his chest.

There was a "poof", and a 80-kg. weight on him in the form of a melancholy-eyed young man with dark hair. 

He was thoroughly naked, clearly confused in a way Kibum was too busy screaming to process, as this is what you did when people "poofed" on top of you. 

The other man rolled off of him, landing with a thud on the carpet. The dogs began to bark frantically, high-pitched and freaked out in a way that Kibum felt perfectly mirrored his own feelings. 

There was pepper spray somewhere in his apartment, and he threw himself out of the bed and ran for the door, his dogs following him. Slightly belated, he pulled the door shut and cursed that his otherwise perfectly satisfactory bedroom that didn't have an outside lock. Gulping down a strong sense of terror, he wrapped his hand around the door knob, pulling it with his full weight before the man could get up and come for him to do – something nefarious, to be certain. 

There was rustling coming from behind the door, effectively rattling his nerves. Was it safe to let go of it and go for his phone? He probably could make it. But who would he even call? What would he even say? 

His thoughts were very neatly interrupted by the door being opened easily, pulling Kibum and causing him to stumble into a firm, clothed chest. He gasped in shock, taking in the scent of the interloper.

He smelled like Kibum's  _soap –_ because Kibum had  _washed_ him. 

Slowly, cautiously, he stood up and took a step back, breathing in sharply as he caught a glimpse of a dark bruise just above the man's eyebrow. Kibum forced himself to slowly and rationally evaluate the legitimately insane situation at hand as the other man looked at him, concern sweeping aside the now recognizable confusion.

As though sensing an opportunity slipping away, the man grabbed for Kibum's hand and held it in his own, and he began to sing, a non-sequitur full of hesitant, graceful notes.

The melody was what Kibum had idly sung earlier. All he could do was stare as he trailed off.

"You didn't finish it. I'd like to hear the rest, though," the man said sheepishly. "And - oh!"

His eyes went distant, as he began to recite. 

"Stock market went down 3 points, vacation rentals in Jeju are going on market, re-election talks for the president..."

He stopped as Kibum turned without another word, going to the bathroom to pick through the trash. With shaking fingers, he looked through pages 5 - 15. His face was pale as he crinkled the edges in his fist.

"Can you -" he cleared his throat. "Can you lift your shirt for me? I - um - earlier - "

"Stitched me," the other man finished, shyly and with a note of admiration. "You did a good job."

"Thanks," Kibum muttered in disbelief. 

"You're welcome," he said. When Kibum raised his eyebrows and motioned towards his shirt, a small blush rose in his cheeks and Kibum squashed down on his first thought, because it was extremely unhelpful.

"It wasn't - that's not where you fixed me?" he gestured helplessly and lifted his into a half-step. He drew a line from the front of his tensed thigh inward, and Kibum squashed down on his  _second_  thought, because that, too, was extremely unhelpful. 

 "Ah. But -,” he struggled to find a different phrase and gave up. “you’re a teddy bear."

"Not now."

"You are sometimes a teddy bear."

"Yes?” he bit at his lip and Kibum watched it slip back out slowly as he dragged his teeth back. “But I like being this way better."

Kibum's third unhelpful thought of the night made itself known without his consent when he blurted out, "Can't blame you."

The other man’s smile was more certain when he replied, "That's good to hear."

The silence sat between them uncomfortably as Kibum's dogs cautiously came back to the door and began examining the newcomer's ankles. 

"Do you have a name?"

"Yes."

"....well, what is it?" Kibum snapped, still unsettled with the fact that he was talking to a  _teddy bear_. 

"Jinki."

"Right, Jinki. Jinki – I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but you're in my apartment. And," he came to grips with the incredibly obvious. "… You’re wearing my clothes."

"Do you want them back?" Jinki picked carefully at the long sleeves of the white shirt he had clearly thrown on while Kibum was preoccupied with panic. His fingers were chubby and soft as they plucked at the material, and Kibum found himself dazed with the realization that the shirt that had been only teasingly transparent on him was far more see-through on Jinki. He could see definitions of things he was not prepared to associate with a stuffed animal.

"No, no, you can keep them."

"Thank you."

Jinki bent down and began petting the dogs as they stood up on their hind legs, in blatant violation of everything Kibum had trained them to do. The bottom of his shirt rode up and Kibum hurriedly looked away as a strip of his lower back was exposed. 

"Are you hungry?"

Jinki looked up at him slowly and blinked, the dogs licking eagerly at his fingers. 

"Yeah."

"OK. OK, let's go get food," he said, his hysterics successfully pressed down to "minimal". 

"I don't have any money."

"Of course you don’t. I'll pay," Kibum said, a little taken aback at his own implied generosity. He just needed an excuse to get out of the madhouse his apartment had just become. "Come on, I have some spare shoes in the hall."

Jinki followed him, silent as he slid on a pair. They were biting into his ankles even as he didn't say anything, apparently unwilling to point it out. There was a flutter of irritation beating its wings against his chest, at how nice he was being to, all teddy bear-related occurrences aside, a complete stranger trespassing in his apartment. He couldn’t account for his relative good nature in the situation, and that irritated him even further.

He made sure his tone was appropriately pinched when he told Jinki they were going to a local ramyeon shop, and he nodded agreeably and matched him step for flustered step.

* * *

 When they arrived, Jinki held the door open for him to enter and hovered behind him as he ordered. Unasked for, he laid his head on his shoulder, his hair brushing against Kibum’s ear, and he could hear his voice stutter.

They sat down, fragrant steam whirling between them.

"You need to explain yourself. You can't just - turn into a person - and -"

"I am a person," Jinki interrupted, his brows furrowed in concern. "Do I not look like one to you?"

"Of course you do. Of course - that's not what I meant," his tone turned waspish as he spotted the smile hovering at the corner of Jinki's lips. "Anyway. Why were you down in the subway?   

An uncomfortable expression replaced the tentative smile in a blink. Kibum tried to push down on his own impatience as Jinki chewed at his bottom lip. 

"Not by choice. Being there – being - ,” he waved his hand clumsily, nearly knocking over his glass. “I didn't choose that. And I didn’t want to – to cry – but it's not something I can really control, when people stepped on me,” he blinked. “I knew it wasn’t going to do any good because who pays attention to a chewed up toy, right?”

He took a sip of water and cleared his throat when he met Kibum’s eyes.

“Besides you, I mean. But I don't even think you would have believed you did that. I don't think you do right now."

Kibum remained silent at his words, and Jinki didn't say anything for a few minutes, slurping up his noodles with small pleased noises that had the woman manning the counter smiling and shaking her head. 

When he picked up again, his voice was steadied and sure. 

"There wasn’t much of a chance. I was like that for a while: don't know how long, exactly. It's hard to tell. You don't really have good access to watches, clocks, calendars. And I can't move. I'm just - wherever people put me."

A slow but inevitable fuse of anger began to light in Kibum’s nerves. 

"And someone put you down there."

Jinki nodded, running his fingers through his hair and Kibum's eyes caught on the bruise. 

"Yeah, but I couldn't really tell you who, why, when. Stuff from before is mostly - fuzzy," his lips crooked up, and Kibum pursed his lips to not smile at the joke. 

"I think I was in love, though," he said, softly, near-mumbling into his bowl. "They weren't."

"Ah," Kibum said. He shifted in his seat. Guilt crept up his neck as a flush as Jinki watched him fuss over his napkin. 

There was an unfamiliar, near-visceral feeling rising in Kibum's throat as his imagination put it all together: Jinki, soft and sweet and loving towards some cruel caricature of a person. Maybe they knew it was going to happen to him when they left. Maybe they didn't. Either way, they didn't care because just that morning people were literally stepping on Jinki.

"Kibum," Jinki's voice cut into his thoughts. "Don’t do that."

“Do what?”

"Pity me, like I’m helpless. Feel responsible for me.”

“Don’t be stupid," he said, sniffing.  

"I’m not stupid. You took a stuffed bear into your home. I'm not that."

 _No, you're more than that_ , he wanted to say. 

Instead, he said, “Obviously,” and "eat your ramyeon."

They ate dinner together. Kibum kept looking at the slope of Jinki's shoulders, the way his fingers curved around the chopsticks like they were a treasure to hold again. 

* * *

They went back to the apartment, halogen burning low at each storefront they passed. Jinki shifted as Kibum pulled down a spare blanket and sheet from the closet.

"We'll have to get you some clothes tomorrow. You’re lucky you ended up with me and not someone tragic."

"Are you sure?"

Kibum scoffed and raised his eyebrows.

"I can afford it more than you can, unless you held out on meal just for some free food."

Jinki nodded his assent, and, when Kibum stared, he laughed instead, shaking his head and pulling his – Kibum’s – pockets inside out. He huffed and let himself smile to himself as he fluffed up one of the pillows.  

“There. This’ll be better,” he murmured and headed off towards the bathroom to clean up, only for Jinki to catch his fingers on his upper arm.

"I meant it, you know.”

"Yeah, so did I. I’m not letting you back out there.”

"I'm not fragile,” Jinki said, his frustration apparent. He held his jaw tight, in control. “And -

"If you weren't fragile, you wouldn't have been so torn up. You still are,” and Kibum couldn’t stop himself from lifting up his hand towards Jinki’s forehead, only to watch him flinch away.

"That didn't happen when I was -."

"Still happened," he retorted, pulling away and yanking the cushions off the couch more harshly than necessary. " I don't let people just wear my clothes. You're staying. Now sit."

Jinki sat on his makeshift bed. Kibum sat down next to him. 

"Look - if you don't know why it happened the first time - then we can’t count on you staying – like this," he gestured up and down Jinki's body. "And I don’t want you to get hurt. So unless you don't feel safe here, you are staying with me."

Jinki looked down at his hands.

"Thank you," he said, almost indistinct for Kibum's ears.

"You're welcome."

There was a companionable silence and Kibum felt a glow of satisfaction for a moment before a thought struck him.

“Oh my god. When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Jinki laughed, long and loud, as Kibum ran to put on his shoes.

* * *

 When he woke up the next morning, the memories of the last 15 hours had him wondering if he had finally cracked and gotten a full-fledged hallucination.

There was a clatter of sound from the kitchen that put the lie to that. He got up and rubbed at his eyes.

Jinki was making breakfast. Jinki, the mistreated teddy bear, was making breakfast in his apartment, after sleeping on his couch, wearing his clothes. He thanked his lucky stars that it was Saturday, supposedly a voluntary shift, and shot off a quick text, advising his co-workers that he wouldn't be able to help them out.

"Kibum?" Jinki's voice sounded cautious, half-raised in case he was mistaken. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," he said, the rasp still in his voice. He caught Jinki giving him a look he wasn't quite  up to interpreting as he headed into the bathroom to shower. 

When he came out, there were plates of food on the table: simple food that Kibum had stopped making for himself as soon as he was out of college. Still, his stomach grumbled in appreciation.

"It was the least I could do," Jinki said, leaning against the counter in deference of the single chair pulled up to the small table. "Iit's been a while since I've had some home-cooked food."

He tried, Kibum reminded himself, when he took his first bite and swallowed around the dry corners. 

"Thanks."

"Are we still going out?"

"Absolutely. Have you thought about what you want?"

"I’m pretty simple. Nothing in particular."

"Pretty simple doesn't mean naked."

"It can."

Kibum whipped up to look at his small smirk and narrowed his eyes.

"Not in this apartment."

* * *

They headed to the nearest shopping district and Kibum made sure that they went into the good secondhand stores, greeting the salespeople by name as he escorted Jinki to the men's section. He eyeballed Jinki critically. 

"No preferences?"

Jinki shrugged and let his own picks do the talking, over-large shirts and baggy jeans that would swallow him up.

Kibum had vowed to himself that he wouldn't force Jinki into anything he was against, but if he didn't say anything - well, then Kibum had no way of knowing, and that was his excuse as he mentally measured Jinki and put his own choices onto his arms before pushing him towards the dressing room. 

"Is this in purpose?" he couldn't help asking. "Are you punishing me by choosing the least fashionable things?"

"Maybe what I want to wear is the least fashionable thing," Jinki said thoughtfully. "Maybe I’m trying out a fetish."

"The next thing will be one of mine, and those are going to fit. Sorry to kink-shame," Kibum sniped back.

“I’ll survive,” he said evenly, pulling out the colorful striped sweater that Kibum had particularly like. He felt himself brighten up as Jinki slung it over his shoulder and waved down a passing clerk.

“Do you have this in an extra large?”

“Yah, absolutely not!” 

* * *

Later, they lolled on the couch, watching a variety show at Jinki’s insistent plea that he hadn’t seen it in months. Every time Kibum wanted to protest, some gag would make him giggle and Kibum would give up, choosing instead to watch him smile out of the corner of his eyes.

At a commercial break, there was a trailer for a drama, a shot lingering on a couple’s hands swinging together.

Kibum stole a look at Jinki, only to find him already looking at him.

“What?”

“I know what you want to ask. I don't remember - remember?”

“I don't believe you,” Kibum said, suddenly certain that he didn't as he watched Jinki's face. His jaw was held tight, his eyes uncertain in the artificial light of the commercials. He sighed, turning his whole body to face Kibum. 

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, and he sounded disappointed that he had to say it out loud. 

"Did you know it was happening?"

"What, turning into a stuffed animal? Yes, Kibum. Yes, I knew it was happening. I had faux fur sprouting from places for two weeks straight, and my eye turned into a marble, but that seemed very routine," Jinki said flatly.

"You know what I mean."

"And you know I don't want to talk about it."

Kibum breathed in, failing utterly to keep his humanitarian, sanguine stance.

"Seems like a super emotionally healthy choice."

"I  _said_ that I don't want you to pity me, or feel responsible for me, or look at me like I'm fragile and you  _are_ \- you just - you're making it worse," he said, getting up and staring down at Kibum. "You're taking me into your apartment, and you're fixing me, and you're feeding me, and you're clothing me, and that's not - that's not what you're going to want forever. This," Jinki waved at the couch, at the blanket Kibum had pulled over their feet when it had begun to get chilly. "This is _one day_ , one bizarre day that you could pretend didn't happen next week. It's not sustainable. Trust me."

"Trust you," he said, flat and confused and hurt. "I literally don't know anything about you besides your name."

Kibum got up, and Jinki didn't move at all, and, if he wanted to, Kibum could embrace him, but he didn't. He moved to get around him. 

“Anything I tell you - it's just going to make it worse," Jinki said. 

"What's going to be worse? Explain to me,  _exactly_ , what's going to be worse."

Jinki took in a deep breath. 

"I really don't remember much. Just feelings. I was left alone. I was abandoned. You can guess that easily enough. There's impressions - that they didn't want me  _as me_. They wanted something easy, something simple, something - they could just pick up and put down and nothing would change. And I don't know how i know but that's what...made a  _me_ into an  _it_."

"And now - now you're just looking at me like I'm a victim, like you can fix me, but you can't, Kibum, I'm not a  _project_ , I'm not - I'm not an  _it._ "

He looked away and fiddled with his hands.

"I'm sorry," Kibum said, fully aware of how inadequate it was as a response. 

"It's OK."

"No, it's not - look. I have - I have  _full faith_ that you could be a huge jerk," Kibum said, and Jinki's head whipped back to meet him. "You can be a huge jerk, or a sweetheart, or a hermit. You can be a mix of all three or four or whatever the fuck else you have an urge to be. I just want to help you but if you think it's forcing you into a box then just tell me I'm being too much. Jinki - you can be anything you want, just as long as it's not an amnesiac toy."

 "You just - you don't know the details. I don't know the details. It could have been my fault," Jinki looked at him from the corner of his eyes.  

"I don't care. You didn't deserve to be turned into a fucking teddy bear."

"A regular teddy bear," Jinki corrected him, completely stoic. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Jesus," Kibum let out a startled chuckle. "How can you say shit like that?"

"It made you laugh."

"You have no proof," he said, turning the volume back up as the MC poked fun at a nervous rookie idol. 

* * *

 It was his dogs' licking him on the face that technically woke Kibum up, but it was Jinki scooting his arms under his body that got him alert

"What - what are you doing," he grumbled.

"Sorry, I thought you should be in bed."

"I am in bed."

"No, you're not," he corrected. "You fell asleep in front of the TV. Come on."

Kibum let himself be pulled up and leaned against Jinki in the darkness as he navigated him around. His chest felt very, very warm, and Kibum snuggled into it until the lights flicked out, making him wince.  

"My fault, I thought I was going to trip," he apologized, flicking them back off. 

"It's so small, Jinki, how could you get lost."

"I wasn't going to get lost, I was going to trip; just, never mind. Here we go," Kibum felt himself get slipped off and groaned as he fell into his cold bed. He held his arms out, demanding, as Jinki pulled the blankets up over him. 

"The cushions are shit, Jinki, come on," he mumbled, his eyes already closed. He could hear small noises, like Jinki was fidgeting. 

"This isn't -"

"This is no strings, Jinki, it's a really good bed."

Jinki sighed, sitting and then lying down, stiff, as Kibum threw an arm around him. 

"See? Much better. Good night."

"Good night, Kibum," Jinki said. The tension in his voice went unnoticed.  

* * *

Kibum woke up, abruptly, to Jinki sitting at the foot of the bed. His mouth felt disgusting, as he opened it to say good morning.

"I'm not used to it," the other man said. Kibum froze, half-wondering how he knew he was awake. But the tone of Jinki's voice was dangerously calm. 

"Sleeping...?"

"Dreaming," he said. "You never know how weird it is until you don't have them."

"You never - "

"Teddy bears don't sleep."

"Oh," Kibum said. It was a lovely, sunny morning, and Jinki's revelation that he had been constantly awake while also being essentially paralyzed was not something he was prepared for. He crawled to the end of the bed and swung his legs over. Jinki's face was blank."

"Did you have a nightmare?" he nudged his shoulder gently, and Jinki's tense posture deflated as he turned. His smile was painful and genuine as his eyes roamed over Kibum's face.

"No. It was good," he said thickly.

 "Good,” Kibum said, wincing at the lame response and getting up since there didn't appear to be a breakdown incoming. “Do you want some tea? There’s some in the cupboard.”

"Yes, please." 

* * *

 After about a week, Kibum began to notice that Jinki was behaving oddly.

It was an ironic descriptive choice given how they met, but it was undeniable. The other man had been slowly coming out of his shell, going with Kibum to the store, and greeting him when he came home. He had taken the dogs for walks and met people at the park. There were notes with strangers' numbers that hadn't been dialed yet, but from the way Jinki talked (more and more each day), Kibum was certain they'd have to get him his own phone. 

He had been talking about finding a job, getting bored with lazing around the apartment. He slept on the couch most nights, unless he had to drag Kibum to bed, where Kibum would pull him down and insist that he enjoy a full bed once in a while, like he did last night.

His smiles were more varied, more genuine now, and Kibum liked keeping track of all the new kinds. 

But for the last day or so his demeanor had turned nervous, jumpy even, at Kibum's edging past him in the hallway, and Kibum's friendly touch to his back as he came up behind him. 

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, when Jinki slid his fingers away from his as he accepted the dinner plate, causing it to fall to the floor with a crash.

"You are," Jinki responded simply, as he crouched down to pick up the pieces. Kibum gaped at him. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Kibum, didn't you ever wonder  _why_ I turned back into a human?" Jinki stood up and searched Kibum's face. "So that's a no."

"Well, no," he sputtered. "What's so important about that  _now_?"

"Think about it," he said simply as he dumped the pieces into the trash. 

"Yeah, I - oh. _Oh_." 

"Right, you hugged me."

"So, what, you're worried you're going to change back because I'm hugging you? Fine, I won't. Not a problem," he lied. He always slept better when Jinki was there beside him. 

"No, that's not it. Kibum..." Jinki trailed off, his lips half-parted as he searched for the words.

"Wait, no, that can't be it. You slept with me last night, and you're still you."

Jinki went to the couch and sat down, and Kibum followed him. He was getting better at reading Jinki's expressions, and the one he was directing at Kibum right now was a mixture: sadness, hope, frustration. He tucked his knees up and sat his chin on them, waiting for Jinki to be ready. 

"Do you trust me now?" he asked shortly, looking like he wanted to ask much, much more. 

Kibum blinked and narrowed his eyes. 

"I trusted you with my dogs, and you had access to my kitchen knifes while I slept six nights in a row. Yeah. I trust you, Jinki."

Jinki nodded, pleased. 

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah...? Jinki, if I did something, you said you'd tell me."

"I did. And I am. Kibum, you're just - we're just," he looked at him, soft and bare and messy and wearing the shirt he'd taken from Kibum that first night, when they were strangers.

Now, they were sort of roommates, sort of friends, and Kibum wanted to stare at Jinki when he woke up in the middle of the night and Jinki was still sleeping, watch his nose crinkle up and his mouth twist at his still-new dreams, and the strain of his arms when Kibum made him hold the groceries was something Kibum loved to look at, and Kibum wasn't sure how he would describe him aside from  _Jinki_ , this guy that was living with him through some bizarre magical circumstance but somehow filled up a part of his life he didn't quite realize was empty. But that didn't quite sum it up. Jinki was Jinki. And that was enough.

It was everything, actually, and Kibum watched Jinki scoot towards him, his socks slipping on the floor, with a smile on his face. He wasn't surprised at all when Jinki curved towards to kiss him, long and slow and sweet and questioning. 

"You're afraid," Kibum said when he pulled away. "That I'll be just like them."

Jinki leaned his forehead against his head, bending to kiss the bridge of his nose.

"Not anymore."

 

**Author's Note:**

> so that end felt rushed, but I really wanted some soft Onkey featuring former-teddy-bear Jinki so...*waves hands* thanks for reading!


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